Healing
by Believe in Fairy Tales
Summary: She told Dante to rest and heal. But then again, he never did listen to anything she told him


**Hey hey! This is just a short scene that popped into my head the other day, and I felt like sharing it with you wonderful people. As always, reviews would be greatly appreciated :)**

Dante lay sprawled out on the couch, Luka lying on his stomach. He hadn't even bothered to take his boots off. Luka had a feeling Myra was going to be pissed when she got home. Then again, when it came to anything to do with Dante, Myra was always pissed.

The Husky puppy snorted and clambered on top of Dante's chest. As long as he was allowed on the couch, everything was good in the world.

"When's mommy getting home?" Dante whined, scratching Luka behind one black and white ear.

The dog shook its head. When Dante started referring to the Mistress as mommy, then you knew things were going to get ugly. Never mind that Dante was supposed to be in bed letting his wounds heal, and when Myra finally got home, it was going to be like World War III.

Luka's keen ears picked up the sound of a key turning in the lock of the front door. His head shot up, instantly alert.

"I take it she's home then," the white-haired demon hunter muttered, yawning loudly and resting his arms behind his head, his expression nonchalant.

Footsteps thudded down the hall, and there was a jingle as house keys were dumped in the kitchen, along with what sounded like a satchel. A few moments later, Myra was standing at the doorway of the lounge. She quirked an eyebrow and frowned.

Luka, looking quite guilty, tried his best to hide between Dante's chest and the pillows on the couch, desperately not wanting to annoy the Mistress.

"Dante…" she started slowly, folding her arms and tapping a dark blue fingernail against her elbow.

He opened his eyes and regarded Myra, not looking at all worried.

"You're home early," was all he said.

Myra cleared her throat noisily and her frown deepened. Her foot started tapping on the floor. Luka gulped – this was not a good sign.

"You should be _resting_," she growled, walking over to the couch and picking Luka up.

The puppy whined softly, but all Myra did was smile and chuckle at him, scratching his head before placing him on the floor. Luka wagged his tail happily – at least the Mistress wasn't angry with _him_.

"I _am_ resting," Dante pulled a tongue childishly at Myra and closed his eyes again.

"Not like this you're not!" she snorted, grabbing one of his boots and tugging it off the couch. "First of all, you know my rules – one, no shoes on the couch, and two, no dogs on the furniture! Never mind the fact that you could open your wounds again at the angle you're laying!"

"Stop worrying so much, will ya!" Dante whined as Myra dragged him to his feet. "I've been through a lot worse!"

"And I'm healing your stupid ass from 'a lot worse'!" she retorted, trying to drag him down the corridor to him room. "Now get that lazy butt of yours back to bed!"

Dante smirked. "On one condition."

Myra paused for a moment. "And what's that?" she asked cautiously, raising an eyebrow.

Dante's smirk widened to a grin as he pulled his arm back, spinning Myra around in the process. She squawked when he grabbed hold of her waist and threw her onto the couch, pinning her down using his heavier body to keep her from moving.

Myra blushed furiously at their sudden close proximity, blue eyes widened. "What do you think you're doing?"

Still smirking, Dante nuzzled her cheek and twined his fingers with hers. "It's cold. I can't 'heal' if I'm cold. You should know that."

Myra realized what he was getting at and laughed, dumbfounded. "You can't be serious."

Dante leaned back just a little and gave her his best 'puppy-dog-eyes' expression. Luka snorted from the floor. That was meant to be _his_ specialty.

"Please?" he pleaded, pouting. "I promise to stay in bed then."

Myra snorted and smirked. "You promise to rest if I stay with you?"

Dante's pout turned into a mischievous grin. "You bet."

Myra looked thoughtful for a moment. She was still blushing at how close their bodies were, Dante's muscular frame pinning her to the couch and his hands locked with hers. Even their faces were mere inches apart.

"Fine…" she sighed, giving him a lopsided grin. There was just _something _about his boyish charm that she could never say no to.

Dante's grin widened and Myra squeaked as he lifted her from the couch and carried her over his shoulder to his room.

"What did I _just _say about your injuries?"

"Give it a rest, Myra. I'll get all the healing I need later."

"Why I put up with this, I'll never know…"

"It's 'coz you're hopelessly attracted to me."

"…Shut up."


End file.
